The Trials of a Receptionist

As part of my responsibilities at Today's World Magazine, I answer the reception line for the office. I took this responsibility upon myself for, as Director of Fashion and Housekeeping, I often encountered exasperated people on my personal extension who rang through after getting stuck in phonetree hell, and I thought it just be easier for me to answer the phone myself.

I actually like it. It's a nice break to talk to people instead of just reading emails all day long, and you find out the most interesting things about the company when you answer the phone.

Of course, I get my fair share of weirdos: People who think we are totally different fashion magazine altogether, and are calling up demanding free Chanel. (Hint: There is no free Chanel) but every once in a while something rises to the top of Mount Weirdo, and I am here for you, dear readers, to relate this sort of thing.

Like yesterday: There I was, sitting at my stylish desk, viewing some swatches and sipping Cristal out of a lovely Schott Sweizel flute, when the touchtone rang.

"Good Afternoon, Today's World Magazine, Catalina Speaking" I said, in my best office tone, and using standard english.

"I need to speak to (Today's world Publisher)"

"Our publisher is located in our San Francisco office. Do you have the telephone number there?" I replied.

"I don't have time to go calling around the country." he replied

"Well, in that case I'd be pleased to take a message for you. May I have your name?" I asked, my sterling silver pen poised above a pink "While You Were Out" pad.

"Jimmy"

"And the last name?"

"Just Jimmy"

"Company?"

"Look, I don't have time for an interrogation. I don't know what's wrong with this country, but ever since 9-11 everybody wants to know everything. I don't have time for this"

"Well, Jimmy" I replied, "I've personally been working in offices since long before 911. Back when I started, there was a big ashtray on the desk where the computer is now. And even back then, it was customary to ask what company a person represents"

"Okay, Okay, Okay" he replied, somewhat frantically, obviously sensing the iron fist beneath the velvet glove "I can tell you're one of the good guys. It's just that I think that public companies just don't appreciate the average guy anymore...." and then launched into a seven minute tirade about "American Business"

I let it run its course - really, that's the only thing you can do with people like that. If you hang up, they'll only call back, and the Cristal was getting flat. When he was done, I murmered the standard spiel about how I agreed with him, what an insightful thing to say, etc, and asked for his phone number.

A quick Google search revealed that - as I suspected - "Jimmy" represented an organization that Today's World would have absolutely NO INTEREST in, so I discarded the message. Of course, there's always the chance that he may call back, but at least I have performed my duty as a gatekeeper. And it's given me something to write about today, so I guess it was all worth the effort.